


Chocolate Fondue

by TheCharise98



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: ??? - Freeform, Anal Sex, Cannibalism, Crack, M/M, Male Menstruation, Mperiods, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-31
Updated: 2014-05-31
Packaged: 2018-01-27 18:27:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1719098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCharise98/pseuds/TheCharise98
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver Queen has got some wicked period cramps and John Diggle, being the good partner he is, tries to "cheer him up."</p><p> What the critics have to say:<br/>"Didgeridoo-Right has revolutionized writing, crafting an existential, absurdist masterpiece in the guise of a 1200-word surreal erotic gay fan-fiction for The CW's hit show 'Arrow.' 19/20 Stars!" - Weekly World News<br/>"We had to cut off an intern's hand just to give this three thumbs up! It's that good!" - The Onion<br/>"I hated this story. Hated hated hated hated hated this story. Hated it. Hated every simpering stupid vacant reader-insulting moment of it. Hated the sensibility that thought anyone would like it. Hated the implied insult to the reader by its belief that anyone would be entertained by it." - Former U.S President Harry S. Truman<br/>"I'm twelve and what is this?" - Local Idiot 13-Year-Old<br/>"I mean, it was okay... pretty decent I guess." - Didgeridoo-Right</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chocolate Fondue

 Oliver Queen, the masked vigilante, the stalwart defender of Stirling, sat in his hideout beneath Verdant and sulked, feeling he had failed his city. His PMS had been worse than normal this month, and when the cramps hit and the Red-River Dam broke, that was that. He was out of commission and knew he would be till this cycle was over. Never mind that the blood would stain his green outfit like hell! I mean, the risk of gunshots or knife wounds was one thing, but this would just be embarrassing.

Felicity took one look at the way Oliver stomped in and noped it out of there, muttering something about how she wasn't  _that_ bad and he should really suck it up.

He flipped through his father's list for a while to get himself in an even worse mood then finally broke down and cried.

“Ollie-san?” Oliver felt strong smooth hands run soothingly down his incredibly chiselled yet incredibly tense shoulders then begin working his even sexier, even more muscular, even stiffer back and arms.

“Oooh, Diggy-senpai! You always know exactly what I need!” John Diggle was his  _big_ Black driver and faithful partner.

“You know it, sir!” He whispered gently into his ear in a voice like thunder, “I know this time of the month is especially  _hard_ _on_  you.”

Oliver sniffed and wiped his eyes, “It is hard. Very  _hard on_  me... Oh, thank you for being here for me when Felicity abandoned me! You're a true friend, Diggy-kun!” Another wave of wreckless emotion hit him and he collapsed again, wailing, “I just can't help it if I have a heavy flow and a wide-set urethra and hole!”

“There, there, Olly-chan... Shssh. Diggle's gotchya sir!” His hands kneaded lower and lower. Then his shoulders, then his blades, now his small, now his hips... now his firm, luscious rump. They both caught themselves moaning with pleasure. Stopping quickly, their eyes locked and widened. Both men blushed.

Suddenly, Diggle leaned in and kissed his boss, his master. “I-I-I'm...” Oliver returned his embrance. “Shssh, it's okay. Let it Be!”

“Oh, Olly-kun! Wait... where's Felicity?”

“I think she's out to get more baguettes.”

“Ah, good. She is improving but I still don't trust her with the real stuff.”

When Oliver had tried to teach Felicity some archery a few weeks prior, she'd accidentally hospitalized Roy with one of the deadly arrows, so for everyone's safety and to prevent future incident, Oliver had decided to switch the real shafts for much less dangerous and much more delicious hard-baked French baguette loafs.

“Ahem, where were we?” He winked and grinned cheekily, “Oh yeah, that's right!” John began to work his nether regions harder, eyeing the bulge in his loose-fitting gray sweatpants greedily. “I know you always get wicked cravings when Aunt Irma visits...” he dropped his drawers and Oliver beheld the grandest erection he'd ever seen, “So I brought you some sweet creamy chocolate!”

“My favorite candy bar.” He dropped his own drawers than stopped, fingering the thick, black clumpy blood oozing from out his urethra. “Lube?” As he bent over and spread his impossibly sexy (like seriously, if it were really true that you are what you eat, I'd gobble Stephen Amell right up!) ass to show Johnny his even thicker backside flow, Marvin Gaye's Let's Get it On could be heard faintly warbling in the distance.

“Yes, yes!” Diggle checked the consistency against his throbbing dick to see how the Lil' Sebastian would respond to the lube. It was perfect. “This is perfect, Olly-sensei!”

He slid it in quickly and frantically, whooping like an Apache on the warpath. Oliver screamed in precious agony “Yeah, that's right! Stick me with your carbon-composite shaft, Diggy-ebi!”

“Oh, you're making me quiver with delight, Olly-nippon!”

“I want you to shoot your little arrows all over me, Diggy-dooright!”

And so on for the next half hour, each thrust was punctuated with an ever worse innuendo as the sheer euphoria butted the lovers' good judgement and taste.

“My-my God!” He came with the force of a Dragonforce solo. Which coincidentally began to faintly warble in the distance in perfect harmony with the Marvin Gaye crooning.

“Sir! Oliver! Look!” Instead of man juice, he had coated the Arrow's spine in blood.

“We've synchronized!”

“Oh, Diggle-chichi! That's fantastic news! This means it's  _my_ turn to cheer  _you_ up!”

“Well now that you mention it, I  _am_ feeling a bit blew!”

Ohohoho... very funny John.

Oliver Queen was seeing red as he ecstatically lubed up and took his turn. “Gonna Floop my way down the chocolate river, Diggy-haha!”

A spark of fear flickered in John Diggle's eyes as he felt the fiery heat of Oliver's soggy member thrust rapidly into his posterior. “Careful Olly-ojichan!”

Now children, to paraphrase the Wikipedia article on friction:

_When contacting surfaces move in relation to each other,_

_the energetic tension of the motion turns kinetic energy into heat._

_This property can have dramatic consequences..._

And as was already revealed earlier on, African American's are made of chocolate... and Diggle being an especially apt, especially pert sample of the genre, was crafted of an even richer blend of chocolate (the kind that only Belgians can conquer) than usual. This, unfortunately meant a lower melting point.

Oliver went on thrusting in bliss like a pioneer spinning sticks for fire. Eventually he noticed the formerly tight hole loosening and felt a non-cardiovascular fluid on his enamored penis.

“Why, Diggy-konnichiwa, is this a little poopy I feel? Did someone make a messy in his butt-butt?”

“No master...” He knew the sacrifice he must make for pure pleasure. “It's  _me_. But...” he added quickly and surely, “For both of our sakes, keep going!”

“But-but! Diggy-priklad, what does that mean?”  
His anus was a gaping, dripping cavern at this point. John could hardly lap up the splashes of his own body before several other dripplets had taken their place. Each puddle of chocolatey John Diggle was a fierce Hydra. Oliver could only windmill his dick and hope to graze some small piece of remaining flesh to get the final ounce of pleasure for them both.

Finally, as his arrow punctured Diggle's chest, he came the last drop of his period blood and shouted, “Take that, Mayor Blood!”

As the magma of bloodcome boomeranged through the air in a loop and landed on John's face, he reached a state of Nirvana and bellowed, “Oooohhh, Olly-moshimoshi! I'm meeeltiiinnnn'!” in a voice like the love-child of LL Cool J and the Kool-Aid Man (but that's a story for another time, dear children) and dissolved into a puddle of perfectly mixed bloodchocolate that strongly and suspiciously resembled red-velvet cake batter.

Oliver, his impossibly attractive eyes still blind from the force of fateful orgasm, groped about the goo, sloshing it wildly into a large silver fountain with a nearby dustpan (Which, to clarify, was only there at all because Felicity had been meaning to give the hideout a good spring cleaning.)

As Diggle's hot chocolatey body arced through the air and spurted from the mechanisms in the fountain, the realization of what had happened hit Oliver Queen, and he broke down and mourned the passing of his dear friend with a grief no other man could ever match.

“Heya Oliver!” Just then Felicity returned.

“Oooh, chocolate fondue, yummy!” She pulled a baguette from the quiver on her back and dipped it into the fountain, and before Oliver could react, ate John Diggle's face.

And to this day, still Oliver gently weeps, while Still My Guitar Gently Weeps can be heard faintly warbling in the distance over the sound of Marvin Gaye and the screaming of a power-metal solo. Forever.

Fin.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I have to give credit where credit is due, this story was written by my brother. He's actually a serious writer and has written a novel. Here's a link to his Figment: http://figment.com/users/30919-Didgeridoo-Right


End file.
